Fading
by mewhunter9
Summary: The preacher was shooting - though the gunshots were slowing down - and a bullet had hit him while he was helping Blake. Blake. Where is Blake? - What was reeling through Reid's head when he was shot in the season nine finale.


_ Blake._

_ Help Blake._

Every point from Spencer Reid's 187 IQ calculated on the present time. He heard the bullets whizz in his ears, whether they came close to him or not, and could feel his index finger pulling the trigger of his own gun to hope for a shot. Though, he focused on covering his colleague attempting to pull the injured Sheriff from the line of fire.

He shielded his body with the door, somehow managing a shot or two of his own that actually went inside of the building instead of ricocheting off of the wall. Blake struggled to lift the Sheriff - Reid knew that it was dangerous to move one with such an injury, but it was necessary - and managed to slide his body back a little, toward supposed safety. However, one of the several bullets shot suddenly in their direction shattered the police car's window into bits. The glass fell onto Blake, and Reid leaped from his position.

Instinctively, he took less than a second to see if he could find any visible wounds on the female. In the darkness and heat of the moment, there was no wound to be found, though it was likely a few small cuts littered Blake's hands from defending her vital head area. Ried knew time was crucial and grabbed her shoulders to move her back. With the fitness training Garcia had helped him with, he surely could move Coleman on his own, but he wanted Blake to be safe as well.

Another gunshot from the preacher, a sound that was beginning to become background noise. He was about to move Blake away from line of fire when a cruel reminder that he was in the danger zone as well came. Striking pain spread through his neck quickly as his head snapped back, and the sheer force and shock of the impact turned his body into a sick mixture of lead and jelly. Wind whipped at his sweaty hair, and he felt cold pavement mixed with a thick liquid against the left side of his body. However, a black sheet covered his eyes, each of his senses dulling to the minimum.

The pain in his neck was still present, perhaps the most intense thing he was feeling currently. His ears rung, despite swearing he hear his name, and hands appeared to pull him in whatever direction. He was lifted as the hands moved him before finally resting his back against an unaccountable metal. Time seemed to lapse, slowing and then speeding up, but never at the correct speed he knew it should be going.

Reid figured he was alone now, though muffled gunshots buzzed in the air to prove at least someone was around. He somehow managed to open his heavy eyelids, which he couldn't recall when he had closed them, but a presence of complete darkness in his sight irritated and disabled him. Daring the movement, he sluggishly lifted his left arm to feel where the intense pain source was emerging from. Maybe someone had thrown a punch at him when he wasn't looking, or something was thrown toward him.

His fingers grazed the spot gingerly, the dry tips of his fingers coated in wetness. The genius removed his fingers as the pain increased and took a glance at them. Dark crimson stained the pads of his fingers, some sliding down to reach the rest of his skin. Blood, was it?

_ I've been shot._

Logically inferences jumped at their chance to reason with him. The preacher was shooting - though the gunshots were slowing down - and a bullet had hit him while he was helping Blake. Blake.

_Where is Blake?_

Reid's raised arm fell into an awkward position, though the effort to move it wasn't in his system. His eyes, the darkness in them fading slightly before coming back and repeating, lifted. A man walked past him - was it Hotch? No, Hotch was still at the police station. The man was smaller with a different hair style, dressed in loose clothes that weren't the formal attire Hotch always wore. The man looked at him briefly before leaving his line of sight. The newcomer could just as easily have been an illusion.

A sudden pain in his head combined with the pain in his neck to cause him to lose his will and let his head drooped down. Of course, he always got a headache at the oddest and worst times. Shot in the neck with a headache. At least the sounds of gunfire disappeared; therefore, much wasn't left to increase the headache pain.

What does a person do when they are shot? Lie down, stop the bleeding until medics arrive. Good idea. Reid picked his dropped arm back up to its previous position. This time, he tried to center the palm of his hand over the wound. He could feel the blood filling the creases of his skin instantly.

Hands, different in size from those before, gripped him. One held his shoulder and the other joined his own hand to cover the wound. Reid's own hand figured its job was done and laid in his lap.

"We need a medic, now! There's too much blood!"

The voice sounded like background noise to the ringing and blood rushing in his ears. Though, he easily distinguished it as Blake's. He fluttered his eyes back open, theory confirmed as her blurred and smeared features filled his vision, along with the blackness.

Blake was talking to him, he realized. His senses were fading in and out, along with the darkness in his vision.

"... doing great, all right?" His lip stretched up for a moment to form a fleeting smile, "You gotta stay right here, okay? Eyes on me. Eyes on me."

Reid guessed his eyes must have unknowingly been fluttering open and closed, which would explain the flashes of black vision. He tried to obey her, but it was getting increasingly harder by the second. Blake's face came through the cracked sliver in his eyelids as he tried to prevent himself from failing her pleading orders. The ringing in his ears turned high- pitched every so often, drowning out background noises.

Finally, the last bit of power he contained to keep his eyes open was sapped away. His headache lessened in the darkness, and he figured he had fallen into unconsciousness. Though, strangely, he could still hear her voice.

"No, no, no! _Ethan_! Ethan, _open your eyes!_"

Who was Ethan? His name was _Reid_, right? Definitely not Ethan.

Blake continued yelling - well, he figured she was yelling - as the darkness coating his vision continued into his head, causing everything stored inside of his brain to become foggy and jumbled. It was like the feeling of falling asleep, except it was uncomfortable for the pain in his head and neck.

Again, time seeped away. Light cast away the shade in Reid's vision, though the dimness in his head seemed to stay. The light was like a camera, blurring and focusing with each movement under him. Where was he now? Where was Blake?

His headache was almost gone, surprisingly as they usually lasted for a while; unfortunately, his neck still throbbed. There was something soft on his skin though, and he felt somewhat cozy laying down with a supposed pillow under his head. Beeping came from somewhere he couldn't see, mixing with the irritating sound that wouldn't leave his ears. He wished it would disappear already.

"It sounded like a tea kettle. You hear it?"

Reid didn't know why he had made that statement, but it seemed necessary. The darkness from before was pulling at him again, though someone replied to his declaration. Was that Morgan? Did Morgan bring him to wherever he was? Blake was gone, and Morgan was in her place now.

His name was called, and some voices he couldn't place mixed in with Morgan's. His sight came in and out, the light smearing against the white ceiling. He wanted to stay awake, to talk to Morgan to find out what was going on, but his body had other plans for him.

The first thing to go out was his sight, and the last thing, before he was completely overcast in black and fog, was his sense of hearing.


End file.
